Who Is She
by Starry's Light
Summary: Marinette is afraid of the changes that ensue when she undertakes her superhero alias. Adrien is afraid to let his dearest friend see who he truly is. But fear is unhealthy; it festers, and it morphs feelings of mirth into madness. As the two protectors of Paris slowly lose grip upon their separate lives, they reach the question: Confess to the other?
1. Marinette: Masquerade Self

**I've been aching to write a short Miraculous story for months now. Oh golly that show. I love it, but simultaneously I'm disappointed in the way the episodes flowed. Marinette and Adrien are such cute, fun characters, but the plot takes so long to go so short a distance that it's almost breathtaking how weak the storyline is.**

**I've watched all of the first season. Started the second, but never got around to anywhere farther than maybe episode 5. It just couldn't hold my interest.**

**So this story's going to be a bit of an AU from the actual show. It's 2nd person, which I know is weird and strange, but it's the voice I really wanted to tell this story in, haha. Why? It just... it feels a lot more real to me, more like I'm putting the reader inside of the story. It feels right, that's all. If you hate it then you don't have to read it xD **

**I'll also be revising a lot of the scenes that either were implied but never happened or just inexplicably never came up in the show because why did these things never happen.**

Who Is She

1: Masquerade Self

It's dark, hours after your curfew. Your eyes struggle to shut, and you sit curled up atop a roof, gazing over the city you protected, saved, today.

There is a shadow clinging just over your shoulder, and you feel it, but whenever you glimpse the direction of it, there seems to be a ripple, and the figure containing its form has gone missing. The hour only grows longer, later, but you can't get your feet beneath you, can't find the urge to get up and go home. Home...

What's a home when your family doesn't even know you, not truly, any longer? You feel the secret lodged inside of you, and your heart shudders.

Tikki's voice, a soft hum, laces your mind: _We should leave soon, Marinette. I'm tired too. I don't know how much longer I can grant you our powers._ She's soft, strawberry sweet.

_Right. Sorry about that, Tiki. I guess I'm just that tired after the whole... endeavor..._ You release a breath and stare into the spiraling darkness of beyond.

Why were you granted this power?

"Ladybug."

You jolt. "Y-Yes?!" Finally you look back and the shadow lets you see him. "Cat Noir! What are you still doing out here? D-Don't you have a curfew?"

His kwami, whatever it is, retains the same identity-obscuring powers as Tikki: you can sense luminous eyes, and you catch creamy skin and hair that flounces in the wind, but you cannot pull these pieces together and construe a person. Cat Noir's voice is oddly deep, rich, _wrong_ for his form. You wonder how _he_ hears you, sees you. But all you know is that he doesn't. Nobody does.

"Heh. Don't you, milady?"

To the smirk in his tone, you bristle. "Well... of course. But I'm just..." You fold your knees up to your chest and hug them. Tikki's gentle tone reminds you that you don't have much longer before you need to leave. "I can't get used to this, is all. Can... you? We... We started at the same time, didn't we? It's only been a week, but I hadn't seen you until I..."

"Yeah..." Cat Noir hesitates. "Yeah." He gives a little shrug, and his cat ears twitch. The mask over his face offers _just _enough shadow to distort his features, more feline than man. "Pretty nice of whoever it was to give us a partner, eh? We really lucked out."

You nod, hesitant, then sure. "Cat Noir..." Carefully unfolding your legs, sleepy and prickly, you stand. When you face him, your fingers twist around the back of your head, to the earrings. There's a gasp in Tikki's throat. "Would it help if you know who I am? Then—Then we can keep up with each other. In the real world."

There's a starburst in your heart that threatens to explode.

Someone else needs to know. Someone else, to bridge the growing distance between who you thought you were and who you're becoming, the distortion between Marinette and Miraculous Ladybug.

But he freezes, and he falls back. "N-Nonono! _Now_? It-It's only been a week! Give me s-some more time, sheesh... I-Isn't this real enough for you?" He throws in a laugh, forced, awkward, and nearly falls off the roof. "L-Listen... it's late. I gotta go now, before I freak my, uh, parental guardians out any more than we potentially have. I'll, uh, I'll leave first. So you don't have to worry about me seeing you."

"C-Cat Noir..." you mumble into the ever-darkening sky. But then he's gone, and then it's just you and your quickly-depowering suit.

Quickly you hop off the rooftop and out sails your yo-yo, twisting into niches between walls and in poles and speeding you home.

By the time you've landed on your balcony, the earrings have lost their strength and Tiki has fallen into your hand, asleep as suddenly as she appeared. You carry yourself on stone-heavy feet down the steps and into your room.

Your parents don't know. The distress call came after they had already tucked you into bed, their faces tender with a love for a daughter they don't even know any more.

Nobody does. Not even Cat Noir wants to... What does that say about you? You curl up in bed and you let Tiki curl up by your head, and you feel the pressure in your chest as it pulsates and throbs, a second heart, like a moon threatening the very tides, cloying your emotions, swelling the sensation of loneliness as you stare at the ceiling and ask yourself, again and again and again.

Are you Ladybug or are you Marinette? Are you a high school girl or a superhero figurehead?  
Who are you if the only other person capable of sharing your identity, keeping it a secret, doesn't want you?


	2. Adrien: Shrouded in Shadow

**Alrighty. Last chapter was Marinette, now we're moving onto the kitty himself!**

2: Shrouded in Shadow

Okay, so. She's cute. _Well_. You don't know that she's cute, because you kind of can't see her face—only impressions: something about blue, her eyes or hair, you can't tell; the heart-shaped face, the pink lips, but _every_one has pink lips, but _her_ pink lips; and of course the mask that obscures her face and extends it almost as if... she's a fairy. Something about it, the way it ties over, something about it makes her enchanted.

And you're kind of terrified of the enchantedness. Will she still be just as enchanting when she takes it off? You think so, but how do you know? All you know is that she kicks the face of crime in with a confidence that you love and admire to the point of a dizzying desire.

All you know about yourself is that you don't have it.

The thing about the curfew was a fib. She never asked again, even when you continued to dawdle, to stay out later than her after a particularly late battle, after sitting out with her on the rooftop and watching the clouds grow dim. You fear the day that one of you is too tired to get up and fight the crime that continues to pollute Paris like a clogged gutter, bubbling upwards.

Where does it come from? It can't be yet another teenager, can it? Someone who's the time to sit around at stupid in the morning and make up monsters. Someone who wants their miraculi, who yearns after Plagg and Tikki. Someone with enough hate in their heart to continue to cause the same misfortune, again and again and again, without a moment of care towards the harm they cause in their city. Who _has_ that type of loathing, the type that spurts out in an endless downpour, lodged way deep within their very soul?

You wish you knew. It'd sure make things a lot easier.

Maybe you'd be that person, if you let the ocean of grief drown you. If you'd let your mother's death wreck you the way it'd wrecked your father.

Your routine of entering through the unlocked window once again works. Carefully you shut and lock it behind you, then pounce onto your bed. Plagg settles on your nightstand and opens a drawer, sneaking into your secret stash of Camembert cheese, the little stinky rat he is. As he munches, your mind wanders.

It's pathetic. You meander through the halls a ghost, your footsteps small and soft, and your father never stirs. Despite your upbringing, your prominent name, your role as a model, nobody knows Adrien Agreste. Nobody thinks about him, wonders what he's doing, then visualizes him darting amongst the darkness of his own home, eating a peanut butter sandwich, throwing the crusts in the trash.

Does Ladybug? Would Ladybug want to see this side of you?

Would she really?

As you sit on the cold marble counter, brushing crumbs onto the floor, you find a wishing star lodged in your chest. And before you know it you've bowed your head and clutched your hands tight together, and you're wishing on it, wishing with all of your soul, wishing that one day she'll laugh at your dumb Cat Noir jokes and smile at your successes and—and when she looks at you with her eyes, her maybe-blue eyes... she sees something. Something she wants to hold onto. Something she can't let go of.

Because people think they see that in Adrien, but Adrien is a farce. Right? He has to be. You created Adrien to be the quiet, submissive son that listens to his father and avoids his angry outbursts and doesn't add to the grief, the overshadowing grief that stifles whatever joy there once was within this ghastly mansion.

How much of you _is_ Adrien, anyways?

The lonely Adrien, the one who wants friends but doesn't know how to make them. The good-natured Adrien who plays video games with Nino and sits next to him in class. Little cracks have developed in your facade, shining fractures that reveal tinctures of light deep within to the real you, whoever that may be.

The Adrien who is strong enough to look Ladybug in the eyes and watch her take her mask off. To see her and love her as wholly as he loves her superhero self. The part of you, the Adrien who stares into the darkness of night and imagines Ladybug's pink face coming undone. Hiding under the blankets, head mushed beneath pillows: You can't really deny that Adrien's longing.

She's so... kind. And creative. And smart. She's the perfect hero, capable of victory even when she absolutely shouldn't be, because the odds don't stop her: the act of stopping is the only thing that can, but she _won't_.

You want to thank her for giving you the opportunity to fight by her side, but you don't know how to be that vulnerable when the mask is supposed to keep you guarded. But the scar of the wish is still in your heart, and you feel it like a shiver, a missing piece of your spirit. And one day you're gonna have to figure these things out for yourself, because one day you won't be able to keep yourself from telling her your truth anymore.

If she doesn't accept you, then she wasn't all that great after all, right? But the thing is, _she_ is. And it's scary. It's a smog of scary, deep in your lungs, burrowing deeper with each cough.

From by your head, you hear Plagg shift. "Thinking about The Miladybug, are you~?"

You flush, tossing your blanket over your head. "I can't help it. She's literally the best and it's not fair."

"Psshhh. Well, you know, she wouldn't be capable of being the best without your impeccable assistance~" A pause, and the rat giggles. "The Cataclysms, the destruction... Amazing, isn't it? You're like Yin and Yang, or whatever. Creation and destruction. You need both to keep a city dangerously close to imbalance safe."

"What is this, Plagg, dating advice?"

He snorts. "Maybe a little bit, or perhaps a lot a bit. But you're never gonna know if she wants you until you _find out_ for yourself, you know."

"I'll ask her," you mutter into your pillow, pouting. "I'll take off my mask one of these days and show her for myself. I-I swear. Just... not yet. I don't want to risk losing her just yet."

Or... ever, preferably. But you can only hold it in for so long.


	3. Marinette: Farce of Family

**Back to Marinette! This one's really gonna make use of that angst genre aaaa**

3: Farce of Family

It's been getting harder.

You want to quit, a little bit. Sometimes a lot more than a little. You hardly sleep, your classes hardly receive your attention. The only comfort and constant in the seas of torrential distress is the Cat, and he still doesn't want to know who you are.

Or maybe you don't want to know him. You never asked again, though it circles amongst your mind. Surely it would be safe now, to share this vital secret with him, even if it wasn't before, right? If he didn't trust you, didn't care about you, he'd plenty of chances to—_oops—_slip and let your body fall, limp. Y-Yeah. Yeah, he has to...

The more Hawk Moth exhausts Paris's heroes, the more likely it will be for one of his akumas to succeed. The less you can focus, the shorter you last as Miraculous Ladybug.

When you stumble home at times later than you can conceive, and you slip into bed, and you try to let the fear and the fighting wash off of you, it's too dark to sleep. Anything could be hiding in the nighttime. Are you sure you caught the akuma? What if there's another enemy making its rounds... right now?

What if someday someone dies, and it's all your fault?

Then the curtains of rest fall over you, and you get your paltry four, five hours.

At school you struggle to keep your two interests intact: the cute boy, and your best friend. The cute boy hasn't gotten much attention lately, which is rather unfortunate, but it's too hard to dream about him when you're busy fighting monsters straight through the evening. Why did Hawk Moth stay up so _late_? Gah, what a.. loser..!

There's also a bully, but the bully's so unimportant you've forgotten to worry about her. The lines between Ladybug and Marinette have blurred in places, and your capabilities of listening to Chloe's utter bogus have lowered exponentially.

It's hard to remember that there are lines. Sometimes you're so tired you forget who you are, who you're supposed to be at what time and when. You've accidentally greeted Alya as her favorite superhero on multiple occasions now, when Cat needs your help and you're so sporadic you forget what you're doing.

That night, you almost forget again. You wake to Tikki's gentle touch upon your shoulder. Pulling yourself out of bed, whispering _spots on_, securing your suit, you slip up the steps and off the balcony, to the rooftop.

Cat Noir beat you. He reaches out and takes your hand, helping you stand. "Mmmmm. You up in there, my Sleeping Bugaboo?" To his giggle, you snort at him and gently push him aside. He's still laughing. "Do you require a purrrrrince's kiss in order to waken~?"

"Nhhh-No, no no!" You shake your head and allow the laugh to bubble at your lips. "You're such a goofball, Cat! How do you crack jokes at midnight?"

"How do you look so gorgeous at midnight, hmmm~?"

Shaking yourself, you nudge him towards the rest of the cityscape. "Oh, come on, Kitty. Let's start our patrol." You used to split up, cover more ground, but there's an unspoken agreement after that one time with that one ambush.

And it's so clear he's tired as well. What you can make of his smile is small, forced. But he still proffers his hand, and he rests it upon your shoulder. As his fingers knit around yours and out sails your yo-yo, and through the streets of Paris you soar, his voice nestles by your ear.

"Seriously though. Are you alright, Ladybubs?"

You lower your gaze, keep the yo-yo steady. "I'm... tired. It's hard to live two lives at once... I feel like I use almost everything I have to"—landing on another rooftop, you stop and scan the sleeping town's corridors—"be Ladybug. Like I lack the ability to be _me_, too."

"Hmmmhh..." Cat Noir hovers by your side. "Yeah. I mean, I get that. But I feel like the only time I get to _be_ me is when I'm suited up. Nobody judges me, with the mask on, because nobody knows.

_I'd_ _like to_, you almost say, but he looks over and he glimpses into you like he hears it. There's a shy little grin wedged beneath the mask, scrunching his eyes. "Sorry you're so tired."

"Yeah, me too," you mumble, running your hands through your hair, letting them drop. "But we were chosen, s-somehow. And I don't want to give this up. Even though it's... really hard, and scary, and I feel like I'm doing so much wrong. Haha..."

Cat Noir's gaze had traversed past you, into the dark skies, but here he stops and he faces you once more with luminous—green? He steps just nearer, close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and his hands graze your shoulders. "Princess, you're doing a whole lot more right than you think, if that's how you're feelin'. Believe me, okay? You're amazing. I'd tell you to take a few nights off if you're feeling so tired, but... Heheh, would it be selfish of me to say that I'm afraid of scouting on my own?"

"Mmmh, I think we work better as a team anyways." You shrug, but his hands stay a moment longer. Then they fall to his side. "Well... come on, Kitty. We can't fight crime if we don't find any."

Out sails the yo-yo. His hand entwines with yours.

There's something between the both of you, something inextricably tight, intertwined like your hands, like the way your breaths mix in the cold of night.

When you're flying again, searching for the demons of Hawk Moth's notorious imagination, you turn and whisper into Cat Noir. "Thank you." You look away, then add, "Thank you for a lot of things." You wouldn't want to be patrolling alone either.

After the ambush, Hawk Moth's horrifying night-attack that went on until the early recesses of the morning, neither of you could sleep anyways. Night patrols seemed mandatory enough.  
And sometimes your enemy does try another night-attack; not often enough to make a pattern out of it, but you've been able to catch them lately, due to a blessed curse of insomnia.

Negative emotions don't stop when the city dozes, off guard...

Then as the night grows longer and you have to lean against the Kitty to keep yourself upright, you return to your meeting-place, say your goodnights, and it's time to go home, time to try to sleep.

"Be careful, Bugaboo. I don't want anything happening to you."

"Thanks, Kitty. You too."

And you figure everything will be normal, because it always is. You enter through the balcony. You tiptoe down the steps. You duck into your room. Tikki's soft tone reminds you that your suit's about to wear—

When the lights splinter on.

Shrieking, you cover your eyes.

Creaking arises from your bed. Then footsteps, footsteps that lead up to the Miraculous Ladybug in the room.

"M-M-Miraculous..!"

You stumble backwards. Open your eyes.

Alya.

Oh... no, no no... You forgot, you forgot about the sleepover—

Your best friend's voice echoes in your head, a cavernous outcry: _You've been so tired, girl... Let's hang out... I just want to spend time with you again..._

Cheeks flushing horribly, you remember how to move. As you turn around and start the climb up to the balcony, you feel it—Tikki can't hold out any longer. Your suit sparkles to a still and dissipates from you skin, leaving you in your pajama pants and tee shirt and shivering, shivering hard, turning slowly to watch Alya's mouth pop open.

"No... _Marinette_, you're..?"

You duck your head and whimper.

"Oh! Ahh! I'm..." She takes three different responses, fails to cram them into one, then darts over to your side. Her hands cradle your arms. Shaking her head, she manages a weak laugh. "Hon, I had no idea... You were sure good at keeping it a secret. N-No wonder you're so tired all the time..." Then she folds you into a hug.

Above your head she murmurs, "I'm sorry, Marinette... B-But I promise, I won't let anyone else know."

"E-Else..?" you squeak, but Alya's already released you, her head out the door.

"I, ah, I found her, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng..." She looks once back at you and whispers out of the corner of her mouth, "I'm really sorry, girl... I woke up after you left and saw you missing and... w-well, I flipped..."

So now your parents...

Immediately the door splinters open; Alya ducks back to your side as your parents barrel through. Your father's face fights between fury and a crushed agony that kills you to watch play upon him. Your mother, under his arm, keeps her eyes trained to the ground, but telltale spots shadow beneath her gaze.

Slowly your father faces you, training his expression to a stormy calm. "Marinette. Where were you?" His usually sweet tone has hardened, twisted, candy too old and bitter to swallow.

"I... I..." You gasp into your hands, covering your face. "I can't..." Unable to face them. "M-Mom, Dad, p-pl-pl_ease_..." Unable to face the truth as it unveils all around you, despite your best intentions.

A-All it took was one bad day. You never realized how lucky you were that that bad day only came down months, like a horrible, life-changing sickness, after you were gifted the miraculous.

Then you feel someone land on your shoulder.

Tikki.

"H-Hi, um..." You sigh, as the people closest to you glimpse the kwami on your shoulder in fear. "I'm Tikki, Marinette's... kwami. I'm the reason she can transform into Miraculous Ladybug."

Your parents explode into action, your father taking you by the shoulder to ask "Marinette is this true" while your mother crowds over to you and laughs feebly that "this can't be real right dear you a _super_hero?"

You can't blame Alya. You should've told her. Told your parents, at least. Told someone.

Told anyone... but your mind flashes painfully into the past, to Cat Noir's reaction when you asked... and the resistance that had built up in your belly stiffens. The resistance you had made as the weeks grew into months, as you tried on and tested and took up the weight of your responsibility.

How can you live two separate lives when you're only one clumsy, shy, average, _weak_ girl?

How did you convince yourself that it was even possible? B-Because it's not. You're not.

As Tikki explains your ever-important role of, well, saving Paris from the exploits of Hawk Moth, your stomach curls into itself. You tug against Alya for support, your head crashing onto her shoulder. She holds onto you tightly as she murmurs, "Heh... I still can hardly believe it, girl.

"You don't look it, that's for sure. I had no idea you were capable of such... ah... _heroism._ But I guess it makes sense." She kind of peers at you through the blinding light. "You just keep it under wraps. You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"D-Don't I know it," you mutter into her, "I tried to give the miraculous to someone, anyone else, the first time I g-got it... but it didn't work that way..." Sighing, you release feelings you'd knotted up so tightly inside.

There's no need to hold onto them any longer. Was there ever any in the first place?

Tikki grows silent, and you feel the weight in your chest. "M-Mom, Dad... I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But I was told it had to be a secret. If... Hawk Moth finds out my identity..." he could find you the same way he finds each and every one of his akumatized victims. He could find you, then walk right up to you and—

kill you.

The thought's so real, so visceral, so carnal in your throat that the tears spill right out, from somewhere deep inside the well of your greatest wishes.

"P-Please please please _please _keep it a secret. Please don't tell anyone else. Nobody else was supposed to... know..."

Throwing yourself into your father's arms, he manages an incredulous chuckle. "Sweetie... How are we supposed to help you be Miraculous Ladybug if we don't know?"

"All those times we nagged your forgetfulness, for homework, chores... It's not that you've gotten lazier over the past few months after all..." Your mother's hand brushes against your shoulder, and you sob. "I'm so sorry, dear. But now we know. We'll work with you now. We'll help you be the best Marinette you could ever be."

After your parents go back to bed, and you settle beside Alya, and Tikki hovers by your head, there's so little left to be said.

You've been left empty by so many tears. Facing your best friend, you whisper, "It's not... weird... is it?"

"Nah, I get it. You're fine, girl." She proffers a faint smile, brightened under the light of the moon and thousands of shining stars. "So... you don't have to tell, but d'you know who Cat Noir is then? Is... _he_ why you've lost interest in Agreste lately?"

"Whh..." You blush, flustered. "N-No! I still am deeply crushing on A-Adrien... I just..." You sigh. "It's hard to focus on him when I have more... life-or-death problems to deal with on a daily basis, h-haha... But, no, I don't know who Cat Noir is."

Your best friend pats your shoulder, gently. "Maybe you should tell him. You might work better as a team, eh?"

"Y-Yeah... That's what I thought." You sigh. "I offered to reveal my identity to him, back when we first received our miraculi, but he... he didn't want to know..."

She stiffens. "What a _boy_." Snorts. "Don't worry about it. He's probably just a dense idiot."

"Ahah... thanks, Alya."

"Y'know, maybe he's crushing on you too, but he's too scared to find out who you are. Like... what if you don't like what you see, right?"

You laugh softly. "We aren't like that, Alya..."

"Hmmmm. People seem to think you are, girlie. And he seems nice," she adds, softer, "and you seem to work really well together. But ahh, don't worry about it. It's getting way too late."

You whisper your_ goodnights. _Tikki curls up on your pillow, and you try to find it in you to sleep.

All you can pray for is that Hawk Moth never finds out.


	4. Adrien: Revelation

4: Revelation

It's late again. There weren't as many akumas this week, not that you're complaining. But it sets you on edge, like any shadow could unearth and be the next, like any bout of darkness could submerge your last fitful bits of rest.

When you reach the meeting-place, you find her curled up and staring over the rooftops of the city.

So you sit beside her. "Hey, Bugaboo, what's wrong?

She shudders. You hesitate before letting your hand graze her shoulder. "Hey... Ladybug, what is it? Do you want to talk about it?"

Finally she glances your way. Her crystalline eyes have shattered, and it's evident that no matter the times she's tried to glue the pieces, they've never quite come back right. "You won't judge me if I tell you, will you..?" To her sniffle, your heart aches.

"Why would I ever judge you, silly?"

But it doesn't make her laugh, not even a slightly-annoyed smile. "I-I mean it, Cat Noir. I don't want to tell you unless you promise... you won't judge me."

"Okay, okay..." You gently pat her shoulder. She lets you, sort of leans into you. Your heart's incessant pounding is going to kill you. "I won't. Pinkie swear. Cat's honor." Then you pause and you whisper, just for good measure, "I mean it."

"I... C-Cat, I..." The tears are already falling again. You take her hand. Again she lets you. If only you knew if she felt the same way about it, about holding it, as you do. "I made a mistake. A really big mistake. My...

"My parents know I'm Miraculous Ladybug... a-and my best friend too. They were all there and... and it was late... and they realized I-I-I wasn't_ home_, and then when I got home... and my miraculous, a-and..."

You utter, "Ladybug..."

Oh, geez. You didn't know what you'd expected, but... this?

With stabbing alacrity you recall your promise, and you clench her hand in your own. "It's gonna be okay, Princess. Your best friend and your parents aren't gonna, like... let that get out, are they?" To the gallant shake of her head, you release a breath. "Okay. Okay! That's good. Then it's like nothing even happened. No one ever has to know."

She opens her mouth, a question in her shimmery eyes, but then she shivers and it's lost.

"What is it, Bugaboo?"

A flush scatters beneath her mask. "How'd you know I had something I..?"

"I'd like to think I know you pretty well~"

"Pshhh..." She shoves you, her fingers small and touch tender. "I-I suppose... you do." Her lips shut and she looks astray.

Then, somehow, miraculously, it occurs to you, exactly what she (may have been) about to ask.  
Or maybe it's just what you wanted her to ask.

She said her best friend knew. You said nobody else ever has to know.

She got upset.

Then—Clearly—there's someone she wants to know, has wanted to know—

Abruptly you stand. Ladybug's eyes follow, her mouth slightly agape. A strange trill fills your body, and you think for a second that you're going to explode.

Then the sensation passes.

"If... you were forced to out yourself..." You hands twist together in front of you. Something lodges in your chest. Oh—Impending regret. You see yourself doing this and—and losing her, losing the one person you ever wanted, needed, to be happy.

"It's not fair, if you're the only one."

Quickly you slip off the ring and hide it into your pocket. Once it's gone, your heart thunders, and you're incredibly tempted to jump off the building and legitimately kill yourself. Without your powers, without your steel bar, without your Cataclysms...

You're just Adrien.

Who is Adrien, anyways?

Plagg ducks behind your back, as if afraid to intervene.

Your eyes hook to Ladybug's sudden pallor. She tries to stand, falls, tries to stand again, manages on wobbly legs. She whispers "wait" once, then again and again and she _does _fall off the rooftop, but she catches herself with her yo-yo. You rush over to her, to catch her, to help her, to _some_thing, and again she lets you take her hand.

She stares at your entwined fingers. A gasp falls out of her mouth. "A-Adrien... It was y-you... all along?" You gaze upon her, and you watch as tears spill from her eyes.

Oh, oh no... "Y-Yeah, it's... ah..." Your hands are shaking. Was this a mistake? Who is this girl, anyways? What does she know about Adrien Agreste? Wh-What if...

Her hand reaches for your cheek, but she hesitates. You hesitate too. "Ladybug. Please... tell me you still know me. I know, I _know_ what I look like, but Adrien is a stuffy little toy whose father controls the vast majority of his actions. Cat Noir... is the mask he has to wear in order to be himself."

Her tears overflow. "But I..."

"B-Bugaboo," you whisper, suddenly terrified, when her hands fall to her earrings.

They come off.

You watch as the mask dissipates into red sparkles. Ladybug's kwami, Tikki, flits to Plagg's side, her eyes trained in any direction but her chosen's.

Beneath the mask is a girl with blue eyes—just like you predicted. And her hair... deep, entrancing blue. Her heart-shaped face is pale and blushing, deeply, and her lips look so—

"Marinette," you breathe, and all of a sudden everything has fallen perfectly into place.

You realize before you even began to think of it that she is the perfect person to be beneath the mask—the only person you ever could have longed for.

She stares into you, eyes fluttering, breaths hitched. "A-Adrien... does Cat Noir still..."

Your hand cups her cheek, and she leans into your touch. "Yes, he does..." You hesitate and add, "I do. I do still love you. More than I thought possible."

Her eyes dart away, then toward you. "I-I didn't think you'd... I-I mean, this has worked out p-p-pretty well for me, I-I must say..." Giggling, her voice low, she murmurs, "I always had a crush on Adrien... but I didn't let myself develop one for Cat Noir because of it. So I... I mean, this feels a little u-unfair for my..."

"Pssssh. No, no no don't tell me..." You can't stop the laughter. "_I_ didn't let myself feel anything for Marinette, because I always had a crush on Ladybug!" Closing your eyes, your forehead brushes against hers. She stiffens, then leans into you, sighing.

Your voice lowers. "How can you say _you're_ the one who lucked out? Imagine if Ladybug was one of my many fans, who forgot anything they knew about the Cat and just... ugh... fawned over me? You're the kindest person I know." And she's so cute...

"Okay, okay..." she sighs again, giggling, "so we _both_ got..." Her eyes hover, staring into you. "Is this what they call fate..?"

You flush all over. "I-I don't... I mean... M-Maybe."

In the dark of the night, your arms wrap around her, and you hold her in the tightest hug. Her head nuzzles into your chest, and her fingers grip tightly to your shirt. She's so warm. She's the warmest thing you've ever held...

when was the last time you were ever hugged? The fact that you don't know strikes you hard, and you almost break down.

"Heh... now I wish I told you sooner," you whisper.

She giggles, her breaths against your heart. "I _tried_ to! Although... maybe it's not such a bad thing that we waited. We got to know each other a little first. Trust each other, even though we didn't know each other's identity."

"That's true... that's true."

Blissfully happy, you're content. You forget about your tiredness, you forget about your father, about school, about photo shoots and bodyguards and the massive mansion you call your home, and everything else that makes you feel out of place.

It doesn't matter if you don't belong anywhere else. You belong with her.

Then a voice shatters the silence. "Heyyy uhhh... we still gotta check for crime, y'know."

You flush and glare over Marinette's head. "I wish you weren't right about that, Plagg."

Releasing her, you murmur your respective _claws out _or _spots on_; then once again the masks are back. But now when you look her way, at your Marinette, you recognize her features through the mask. The miraculous no longer hides her creamy skin, her crystalline eyes, her dark blue hair, from you.

She must notice as well, because her eyes widen. "I see you."

"Heh. I see you too, Miladybug."

A snort breaks out before she can stop it. "Why am I not surprised you still call me that?"

"Hey, it's a perfectly cute nickname!" you squeak.

Her eyes skitter from your own. "Yeah. I always thought it was..."

Your heart snags. "You _did_? Y-You never told me!"

"I didn't realize you were Adrien! I didn't want to let it feel cute! I'm sorry!" Between her blush, she's laughing, and you ache to hold her hand.

You step up to her, and she takes yours before you get to it. Her eyes gleam. "Well, are we gonna stop some akumas or what~?"

In the back of your head, you can hear Plagg's voice.

_Good job, bub._

**I think I'm still gonna write at least one more chapter? Something involving Hawk Moth and actual battles. I just don't know what yet... we shall see~**

**Thanks for reading so far!**


	5. Identity

**Wow! I'm finishing this story?  
I really wanted to write a final chapter with Hawk Moth's point of view, since he is sort of the main antagonist of the show. So here's my take on that~**

**I'm taking a number of creative liberties (I think Hawk Moth was severely underdeveloped in the show, so I'm adding a lot of my own ideas here), so you might wanna dip out if you're not into that.**

5: Identity

There is a small, glass room beneath the floors of my otherwise comely home. The room is dark and empty save for the bitter, fluttering broken wishes of granted unhappiness. They fly out of me on their own, the violent purple power of my heart's desires sunken into them like poison. This room, this dark, frigid, foreboding room, is what I call my mind's eye, for within this chamber I can see all through my pain, reflected off of the glass.

It is my power. I was granted salvation through my suffering. My loss bequeathed me a gift, and my gift is to watch the rest of the world. To use my ever-reaching powers and make it suffer as I do every aching day of my ever lengthening lifespan, cursed to live with my pain: That is my duty. I feel it, clinging to me, with crooked claws for hands that drag into my soul and fight for purchase on what is no longer my own to control. My empty shell of a body steers me closer, closer, to the point of no return.

I've one lodestar, one reason to drag myself forward in my dreary way of living.

_Them_.

They remain my salvation, my saviors, my reason not to end it all. Once I have killed them, I am afraid I will lose sight of myself.

But they must die. I remind myself of this every waking moment of my life. If they live, then the world will never truly know my pain, and I will remain alone, unknowable. Unremarkable. I need them to feel my suffering, the tragedy I fought through to be granted with this power.

She creates. He destroys. I am what holds the two together, the motivation that combines them: the desire to create and destroy. With my very hands I can imbue the people of Paris. The toxic butterfly gifts a kiss, and they are under my control, and under my control their possibilities are limitless. They can make; they can unmake. They are their own desire.

Signs of anger work best, as anger distills a lapse in judgment. They will not say no if their emotions are too strong to ignore. And of course my power weakens if I imbue more than one simultaneously. One controlled person per attack ensures my hold will not slip. And I cannot lose my hold.

In the dark of the room, the creatures in the base of my skull whisper these sweet nothings to me, threaten to feed them to me, to force them down my throat. I can be like my prey. I can lose myself in my pain and the power will become strong enough to finally best my adversaries.

But in the darkness, as my head lulls and I lean into the whispers, I remember with stabbing alacrity the only reason these powers exist at all. I remember what I gave up—I remember _who_ I gave up—in order to transform love into strength.

Ladybug and Cat Noir have not a clue to the droplets of blood in their transforming jewelry... not a clue of the morning, thousands of years ago, in which I sacrificed for strength. Had the kwamis not stolen away some of my beloved's powerful blood, there would be no adversary. But there always is, isn't there?

I see them, flickering across my glass screen. She leaps, and his hands fall around her, catching her in midair. The monsters raise up against them as their magical weapons fly outwards, entangling the beasts in their own game of war. I sense it slashing against my skin, the Miraculi's attacks, and I grunt as the pain comes rushing like adrenaline through my timeless veins.

The Miraculous match the heart of the user. Ladybug and her charming polka-dot affinity; Noir to his inky black visage and terrible puns. Were they different people, the relics would manifest differently. Even now, as I watch them, I notice the ever so slight changes that have begun to bloom within them: Ladybug's mask has grown shorter, no longer encasing her face in secretive fear. It now stretches across her eyes and obscures her just enough, but I catch the twinkle in her gaze; she is happy.

The pit in my soul releases a long-imprisoned moan.

Beside her, Cat Noir flickers to her aide, his nasty claws stretching out and shredding another butterfly-imbued beast to dissolving ribbons. When another rounds to their unprotected flank, his hand momentarily passes across her shoulder before he surges aside and strikes at the disfigured beast with his staff. They rotate, footsteps in lockstep, perfectly in harmony, one melding into the other. Creation and destruction. They do not harm but fester to one another, blossoming together, moving the world to a better place.

Noir's outfit has not altered, but the smile attached to his face has loosened. It's genuine.

The monsters disappear when I collapse into myself, unable to sustain them any longer. The corrupted butterflies do not flit from the corpses of my puppets but sizzle into their hearts, eating them alive before dissipating themselves.

I cannot take it any longer. I see it, I see the poisonous affliction in their locked gazes, their dance of destruction.

They've fallen in love. In the midst of my havoc, I have created the perfect habitat for a gentle flower's flourish, and that flower is their happiness.

Without me, they never would have met, never would have become superheroes. Without my sacrifice, without my beloved's blood, they never would have shared reason to save the world.

What have I done...


End file.
